Thomas Serpell.

THOMAS SERPELL, MI6 Jacob Adams • 41 • Mechanic. “If you don't want to slip up tomorrow, speak the truth today.”

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@Andrew. [text]

Thomas: Oh, dickhead. You busy?

Thomas: Fancy a pint? I'm buying. Got some stuff I could use a second opinion on.

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IS TOM DEAD

LMFAO FUCK OFF.…and by fuck off, I mean not yet.Nah, honestly, I’m just actual trash who has been struggling with her muse. Forgive me. I will get back to everyone eventually.

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If you were feasibly able to have social media, what would you post about? What would you show on instagram?

Dogs. Chelsea FC. More dogs. His wife.

In that order.

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irish-derry:

“Sounds weird, but it’s not that weird as other things I’ve seen.” Derry snorted and rolled her eyes. “Believe me, not even the five years I’ve spent in London would make me less Irish than I already am. I drink enough Guinness to keep up with the irish blood running thorugh my veins,” she said. “As for the sports, I’m more of a yoga type of girl. My twin and my dad are the ones obsessed with the rugby, can’t even talk to them when they’re watching the damn thing.”

“Yes, that’s my bar, and I only beat up the idiots who think themselves masters of the universe and think they can do whatever the fuck they want just because they payed for their drinks,” Derry sighed. “Got to protect the place I work for, you know?” When he asked about the movie, she shook her head. “Actually, I’ve never seen it, but the actor gave a long conference the other day and there was nothing rlse to see so…” she shrugged. “You look just like him! I’m surprised no one has asked you for a picture or an autograpth yet. 

“I heard a rumour that our Guinness isn’t the same stuff they serve over there. Any truth to it, or was it just an Irishman trying to fuck with me?”

Tom couldn’t help but snort into his glass as she reasoned away her behaviour. As much as he appreciated the ‘take no shit’ attitude from women who weren’t afraid to hold their ground, knowing Londoners—and oh boy, did he know ‘em—they wouldn’t be so keen on the idea of being physically assaulted by someone who thought herself above the law. Their pride.

“I mean, most people just hire bouncers.”

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lauriealessi:

Laurie looked up from his pint when he heard a familiar voice, spotting Jacob a few seats over. “You’re missing the most important reason,” Laurie spoke up from his seat, hoping to catch his attention. “The footie players’ arses. That’s my favorite part,” He raised an eyebrow as he lifted his glass as a cheers before tipping it back. Probably not the best thing to announce in such a seedy pub, but he was well past caring. He was twenty-eight now, nearly thirty, which meant he was basically dead anyway. 

When the familiar voice caught his attention, Thomas couldn’t help but grin broadly. Even though they’d only met a couple of times before now, he wasn’t afraid to say that the kid made for good company; something of a rarity in London, nowadays, he’d realised. Leaning over, Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder in greeting, ushering the bartender over with the other when he watched him empty his glass. More drinks were required.

“I mean obviously I agree,” he started, before nudging his head in the direction of some unruly looking bikers across the room. Stood amongst them, the woman he’d arrived with. “Just don’t let my wife hear about it. Absolutely stunning, but also mildly psychotic. I’m hoping one of them takes her home and she gets so lost she can’t find her way back.”

“How’ve you been doing, anyway? The longer you keep me talking, the more drinks I’ll buy.”

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irish-derry:

“Did my lovely accent gave me away?” Derry smiled at him. “I am indeed Irish but I’m not one for sports, really, not even when I was in high school,” she confessed. “If you want a better pint than the one you’ve got there, make sure to visit Dagda’s Cauldron. Believe me when I said, you won’t be dissapointed. To make you a better deal, I’ll pay for your first drink when you go there, how does that sound?” she asked and then frowned. “You look familiar,” Derry pursed her lips. “Oh, you look like that actor who plays Deadpool in movie!”

“An Irish person that doesn’t like rugby,” he repeated, shaking his head as though in a state of disbelief. After playing witness to how bat-shit crazy they went over the sport on many occasions—they were even worse than the bloody Welsh, sometimes—he kind of was. “Pretty sure that’s not normal. Need to brush up on your Irishness. Must have been in London for too long.”

“Wait, isn’t that the place where the barmaid beats up the patrons or some shit?” Presumably—it didn’t take a genius or a spy to work it out—she was said barmaid, and he couldn’t help but reference The Westminster Insider comments that had been making the rounds. “Besides, Cauldron is probably the least appetizing word I could imagine in a pub name, and I’ve actually drunk at a place called Dirty Dicks, so…” Irish pubs were decidedly not his thing. That was saying something, considering he’d drink just about anything, anywhere. “Never seen it. Any good?”

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andiserpell:

“Are those my tears you’re drinking?” She reached for his drink, as though genuinely planning to inspect the contents. “See,” she raised her eyebrows at the tone, even if he couldn’t quite see her, “my favourite part of the World Cup is that I suddenly become single. I was dancing on the bar over there and my husband didn’t even notice. On the plus side, some very lovely, heavily tattooed, bikers bought me shots and generously offered me a seat. No spoilers as to where.”

“In spite of all those reasons to stay where I was, I had to come over here. Why? Because my new best friend called you daddy as fuck, so after telling her to love herself I thought I’d come over and see what the fuss was all about. Clearly a wasted journey when I don’t look like Gary Cahill.”

“Okay, firstly, let me address the most important thing you just raised, because this constant miscommunication is beginning to make me feel like you don’t really care,” he started, sliding his drink out of her reach just in case. After making a point of showing how exaggerated an effort was required to look away from the match report being shown on the screen above, he corrected:  “It’s Henderson that does it for me. Henderson.”

“On to the next pressing issue: Which one was calling me daddy as fuck, exactly?” After finishing off what remained of his drink (before a vulture could steal it), he nudged his wife to the side slightly as though he’d rather look at the group she’d just left. Thomas squinted. “Wait, was it the one with the pink hair? Please tell me it was the one with the pink hair. I think I’d actually trade you in.”

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irish-derry:

“Not really,” Derry shrugged her shoulders, not even caring if the man next to her was speaking to her person. She hated football and people were in their own right to celebrate and watch it, but for her it was just boring and a complete waste of time. The good part was that it attracted a lot of customers to her bar, even if Ireland wasn’t in the World Cup. Being honest with herself, Derry wouldn’t have watched even if her home country had classified in the first place. “I’m still trying to understand what’s so fascinating about watching men running after a ball.”

“If I had a quid for every time I’ve heard that, I’d be drinking a better fucking pint.”

When he’d turned in his seat to put a face to the voice, he hadn’t expected someone like her; hardly seemed the typical patron of a place like this. It surprised him less when she quickly identified herself as one of those disinterested in the sport that had hijacked the nation. Thomas couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You sound pretty Irish. Safe to assume rugby is your thing instead, then?”

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“Anybody else find it hard to decide their favourite part of the World Cup?” The question was directed toward no one in particular as he took a sip of his drink. The man had been idly chatting with a bunch he could only assume, judging by the state of them, were regulars. What better way to fit into the scenery of the grottiest fucking Wetherspoon’s he’d ever set foot in? “Is it being able to drink at three in the afternoon, the beautiful game itself, or enjoying the triggered tears of all the people who whine about how sick they are of football?”

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[unknown number] If you took me outside and hosed me down so the plants just happened to get a drink- which part do you think we'd be fined for? [unknown number] If another teenager doesn't know what Henman Hill is you better get bail money. [unknown number] I'm officially melting. Please know that I have always loved you but I'll haunt your ass if you don't treat my vinyls right. How did they save the snowman in Frozen? Just one cornetto? Give it to me. Delicious icecream from Itaaaaly.

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Worst hangover?

I would imagine the one that came after the night he found out the mother of his second child had been killed. Pretty sure he had a legitimate stab at drinking himself to death. Not usually the way he tackles his problems, but for that, he definitely made an exception.

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Least favourite part of the job?

Probably that he has to spend such extended periods of timeaway from home. As much as he loves the fact he gets to travel and experienceother cultures he otherwise wouldn’t, he knows deep down that it’s notworth the time lost with his family and Andrea. So, it comes down to what is abigger priority to him: his happiness orwhat he feels is his duty to his country. Up until this point, the answer isobvious, but I think that’s changing for him. Life is finite. He’s starting tothink he’s not making as much of it as he could.

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The best news you have ever been given?

The first time he was told he was going to be a dad. Genuinely, he was over the fucking moon. Even though his relationship with his ex-wife had deteriorated by that point, he was still convinced that he’d get to be a good father; unlike his own, who had failed on every front imaginable. Tom was so ready to do whatever it took. Unfortunately, the feeling was short lived. Didn’t exactly play out that way because his ex is a fucking bitch.

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If he had a dog, what would it be called...

Hi, I’d like to file a bully report. This anon is trying to give me feels.

I feel like Andi would get naming rights over a joint doggo. But if he’d had one on his own he’d probably have named it after his favourite Chelsea player at the time because: a) he’s unimaginative af; b) absolute Chelsea trash, and c) imagine shouting it out at the park and triggering all the Liverpool and Arsenal fans. Glorious.

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what the fuck

I’M WEAK. THIS IS THE BEST THING.

YOU DO REALISE BENNETT & GALLAGHER IS ALSO IN LONDON. HE COULD TOTALLY BE HERE. I MEAN WAIT, WHAT? WHAT IS A PATRICK GALLAGHER?

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Love you. Xoxo. Secret admirer.

[Disgusted noise]

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elene-dadiani:

Standing patiently in her queue at Costa Coffee, Lenny was lazily scrolling through the news. An article notifying Russian hooligans attacking British and French fans made her eyes roll to the point of almost falling out.

“Oh, wow. The world somehow decided it was a good idea to host World Cup championship in Russia and now they are surprised by the brutality of locals? Ignorant as always, so typical,” she muttered the last sentence. It seemed like everything even remotely related to Russia set Lenny off lately. The voting result was still a very painful punch in the gut, a decision that left her utterly disappointed.

“The brutality of the locals?”

It was rare that he picked up random conversation in settings such as these, but on occasion, when someone said something so monumentally stupid that he couldn’t hold his tongue, he found himself having to intervene. Perhaps it was punishment for consciously choosing to step foot inside a Costa fucking Coffee.

“You’re right. Sounds pretty ignorant,” he commented offhandedly, glancing forward to see how long he’d have to do battle before he could grab his basic-bitch mango cooler and escape again. “I fully understand legitimate political gripes with the country, but lumping all of the people in together is a pretty shitty thing to do. Every country has its wankers, this one included. Doesn’t mean we’re all going around acting like it.”